Chapter 12 #4
Caroline stared at him for a moment then threw her arms in the air. “Tremendous! I do not believe I could conceive of a better way to ensure we become social pariahs, except perhaps if we were to contract leprosy and begin moulting limbs on the dance floor at Almack’s.”
Her brother opened his mouth to speak, but since it was exceedingly unlikely he meant to say anything of value, she shouted over him.
“Debarred from Pemberley! Have you any idea how low we shall sink in the eyes of the world if this is discovered? Remedy this! Before anybody learns of it!” She span on her heel to leave but turned back when he called her name. “What is it, Charles?”
“Are the servants talking about anything else?” He looked excessively conscious.
“Why? Is there something else for them to talk about?”
“No, I was only—no, nothing. Would that I had listened to you and never come back to Hertfordshire!” He dropped his head into his hands—which was fortunate, for it meant it was marginally better guarded when, in the next moment, a pin cushion, replete with a full contingent of pins, was violently flung at it.
Sunday 11th October 1812, Kent
Elizabeth’s week at Rosings had never promised to—and had certainly not—delivered any significant improvement in relations, but neither had it been without its small advancements.
With Mrs Montgomery, she had formed the beginnings of a tentative understanding that, with a good deal of time and an even greater measure of patience, might eventually become something approaching a delicate sort of friendship.
Darcy and Mr Montgomery were steadily rekindling the familiarity they had enjoyed before one went abroad, and Elizabeth could not but be pleased to have gained such an amiable, steady gentleman for a cousin.
Lady Catherine still looked on her with the utmost disdain, but she had mostly given over casting aspersions about her abilities in favour of not speaking to her at all and observing her with disconcerting application.
Darcy was convinced it was to find fault.
Elizabeth was more hopeful, choosing to believe she was searching for something of which to approve, though if she had met with any success, she had not yet admitted it.
Elizabeth and Darcy’s happiness only increased.
Every day was punctuated with blissful private moments, shared jokes and all manner of discussions from edifying to teasing.
Of Mr Montgomery’s son, Master Jonathan, they had both grown very fond, delighting in his sweet antics whenever he was brought down from the nursery and secretly anticipating the time when their child might play with his or her new cousin.
Thus, though Elizabeth was not sorry to be leaving on the morrow, neither was she sorry to have come, which was a better frame of mind than that with which she had departed Netherfield a week earlier.
“You are very quiet,” Charlotte said as they emerged arm in arm from the church. “Nothing is the matter I hope?”
“No, I was only thinking of everything that has happened this week—well, and since I was here in April, really. I have endured the worst and best moments of my life in these few short months. I never dreamt my life should end up so… altered. Oh, do not look so worried. I am the happiest creature alive, but I cannot deny it is overwhelming at times.”
“I am not surprised you feel that way. Every woman experiences some change when she marries, but rarely so vast or challenging an adjustment as yours. You are bearing it with remarkable fortitude though.” She patted Elizabeth’s arm.
“You endure his family’s incivility with far more forbearance than they deserve.
I should hate to see you lose heart now. ”
“No fear of that,” Elizabeth replied with a grin. She lowered her voice as they joined the back of the crowd of people milling about in front of the lychgate. “My heart is well and truly bound to my husband’s and in no danger of being lost.”
Charlotte smirked. “Forever the romantic.” Her teasing had not the chance to gain pace, for a young girl directly in front of them—about Lydia’s age and with a similar grasp of propriety—drew their attention with a barely whispered exclamation.
“Did you see her? Even paler and more miserable than usual!”
“Aye, very ill indeed!” her equally indiscreet companion replied.
“Who was the gentleman with whom she was sitting?”
“Her husband, Mr Montgomery.”
“I thought she was supposed to marry Mr Darcy?”
The second girl giggled. “Peter heard Mr Darcy lost a wager to Mr Montgomery and was obliged to give up his claim to Rosings Park to settle the debt.”
“He cannot have been very distressed, for who would wish to marry that cross, sickly thing anyway. Perhaps it was Mr Montgomery who lost the wager, and he was obliged to marry Miss de Bourgh in Mr Darcy’s stead!”
“It is unlikely,” Elizabeth said, unable to hold her tongue any longer, “since neither the house nor the lady was theirs to wager. Mrs Montgomery is a sensible woman from a distinguished family. She is quite at liberty to choose her own husband. She ought to be celebrated for having chosen to take on a little boy in need of a mother. I should wager he cares not one whit for the paleness of her countenance.”
The two girls turned to face her and looked caught between astonishment, shame and indignation.
“Miss Webb, Miss Emily, allow me to introduce my very good friend, Mrs Darcy,” said Charlotte with obvious pleasure.
Both girls abruptly took on a pallor not dissimilar to the object of their earlier ridicule, curtsied, giggled and ran away. With a rueful smile at her friend, Elizabeth set off again through the throng of villagers to where her party’s various equipages waited in the lane.
“You are not distressed by their idle talk, I hope,” Charlotte said quietly.
“On the contrary, I am comforted to discover my sisters are not the only thoughtless girls in England.”
The approach of the rest of the de Bourgh party prompted a hasty but heartfelt adieu between the ladies. They were both reunited with their husbands whilst Fitzwilliam and Mr Montgomery stepped forward to hand the other ladies into their respective carriages.
“Wait!” Lady Catherine demanded. She fixed Elizabeth with a steely glare. “Mrs Darcy will ride with me.”
Thus, after a quick re-shuffling of passengers between carriages, Elizabeth found herself travelling the short distance back to Rosings alone with Lady Catherine, rather than enjoying a final stroll back through the park as she and Darcy had planned.
Her ladyship said nothing for the first several minutes. Elizabeth waited, wondering whether it was more likely that her ladyship meant to bestow a surprise blessing or take advantage of one last opportunity to abuse her. A hoarse intake of breath presaged what transpired to be the latter.
“Let me be very clear, Mrs Darcy, I shall never approve of you. You are of absolutely no importance in the world. You are impertinent, you are appallingly liberal in your thinking, and you have, against every appeal to common decency and reason, put my nephew in an unpardonably tenuous position in society.” She looked away for a moment, coughing slightly as she peered out of the window.
Eventually, she looked back. “I do concede, however, that I may have underestimated your character.”
Had there been no sides to the carriage, Elizabeth might have fallen from her seat.
Lady Catherine nodded brusquely as though satisfied with her astonishment. “Were you aware I was behind you when you were speaking to Mrs Collins just now?”
“Why, no, ma’am.”
“I did not think so. You might still have spoken that frankly regardless, but she certainly would not have. You were discussing your situation.”
“Aye, a little.”
“You spoke with more modesty than I have heard you admit to before. I am relieved to have heard it. You ought to be overwhelmed.”
Elizabeth frowned warily. “I am not sure I—”
“Because no matter how strenuously you deny it, you were not born into this sphere, and you cannot have been prepared for this degree of responsibility. Complacency would be disastrous.”
“I assure you, I have never been complacent ab—”
“But you act as though you are! Your behaviour shows nothing but an unjust assuredness of your success and an equal indifference to your failures.” She paused and took a deep, rattling breath, continuing in a far calmer tone.
“I am relieved to discover you are without such conceit after all. Where there is real inferiority of mind and situation, modesty will always be under good regulation.”
Elizabeth stared at her. “That may be so, but I think you credit me with too much. When I said I was overwhelmed, I was referring to the rapidity and magnitude of changes to my situation. I did not mean to imply I was suffering from any peculiar feelings of trepidation or inadequacy.”
Lady Catherine’s eyebrows rose, and she gave a huff of displeasure that immediately dissolved into a cough.
Elizabeth waited for her spasms to pass then calmly but firmly pressed her point.
“I am far from complacent, but I am assured of my resolve to be the very best wife to my husband that I can be, and as long as he is satisfied with my efforts, so shall I be.”
“Mrs Darcy, I invited you to ride with me with the particular purpose of acknowledging that I may have been ungenerous in my assessment of your character. Am I to be repaid for my condescension with ingratitude and defiance?”
“I am certainly not ungrateful, and I hope my endeavour to be honest will not be taken as defiance. But nothing would be gained by my accepting your approbation for modesty I do not possess. You would only be disappointed the first time I behaved otherwise, and that would pain Darcy all over again. Far better that you accept me as I am.”